


One Knight Stand

by PrairieFarmGirl



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Kissing at Midnight, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, One Night Stands, One Shot, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23676178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieFarmGirl/pseuds/PrairieFarmGirl
Summary: Claire and Geillis go to a New Year's Eve party.  Geillis ditches her and leaves Claire to fend for herself.  She meets Jamie when he rescues her and things just "happen".
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 12
Kudos: 91





	One Knight Stand

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So, this is my second (yes, ever!) writing. I can’t thank y’all enough for all the great comments and words of encouragement from my first story. Because I like to do the hard stuff first, I took some of the little pieces of my first story, The Adventure (a Prohibition era story with J & C that was part of the One Quote One Shot fun), and tried to up my game a bit. I really struggle with the intimate stuff. So here is more practice at that. Baby steps…
> 
> So for your Saturday reading pleasure, I give you a little fluff and a lot of NSFW (Magic Mike Level 10).

_**New Year’s Eve 2019  
** _

Geillis abandoned her in a club. Again.

> _Geillis: Hey…I caught a good one. Bye!_
> 
> _Claire: WOT? You are NOT leaving me here by myself!_
> 
> _Geillis: I’m heading to his place. You’ll be alright. Go up to the bar and meet someone. I didn’t dress you in that hot red dress for nothing!_
> 
> _Claire: WTF?!_
> 
> _Geillis: Stop yelling at me. See ya tomorrow. Or the next day…._
> 
> _Claire: Geillis! I can’t believe you abandoned me on Hogmanay! Seriously!_
> 
> _Geillis: BYE!_

Claire heaved a heavy sigh. She decided to head to the bar. What did she have to lose? Nothing. She was used to Geillis leaving her to fly solo, but it was Hogmanay. They spent hours getting ready. They shopped for the perfect dresses. She could’ve at least stayed until midnight!

As she weaved through the crowd, she noticed several eyes upon her. She quickly looked down at her chest to be sure she was still covered up. That’s all she needed was to pop out of the ungodly low bodice that Geillis had talked her into. She still couldn’t believe she had the nerve to wear it. Geillis brought it to her in the dressing room, proclaiming that THIS WAS IT. When Claire saw it, she told Geillis to hang it back on the rack but Geillis refused to be budged. 

Claire put it on just to shut her up. 

To her complete and utter amazement, it fit her like a glove. It reminded her of something Jessica Rabbit would wear. It was red, strapless and low-backed with a slit to her upper thigh. 

When Geillis opened her dressing room door, she gasped and squealed. So Claire spent an ungodly amount of money on a dress she’d likely wear exactly once. But after wearing scrubs all week and having her hair in a frumpy clump on the top of her head, she wanted to look like “sex on wheels” (Geillis’ words) just once. 

Walking up to the bar, assured that her bodice was, in fact, covering up all the essential parts, she went to an open chair, sat down and ordered a whisky. 

The guy to her right was practically salivating. She gave him 5 seconds.

Five.

Four. 

Three.

“So are you here with someone tonight?”, he asked. Well. That was fast. Not wanting to encourage him, since she wasn’t really interested in him, she said, “Well, actually I am, but I seem to have lost sight of…”

“That’s too bad. I’ll be glad to keep you company. I’ll not let you out of my sight,” he purred in her ear, entirely too close for her comfort.

“No thank you. I’ll just be on my way to find…”

“What? You only just got here. Sit here and drink your whisky. Or better yet, you can join me in a dance.” 

“Again, no thanks.” Claire got up to leave but he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s cozy up on the dance floor and get to know each other.”

Claire struggled to pull her arm away from him and opened her mouth to tell him just exactly what he could do with his suggestion when….

“Unhand the lady. Now.”

Claire, still struggling to pull her arm out of his tight grasp, looked behind her to see the tallest, red-headed man she’d ever laid eyes on. She knew this was her chance to get out of this particularly uncomfortable situation and decided to capitalize on it. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

She looked into his blue eyes, begging (pleading) for him to play along with her.

“Oy! You didn’t say you had a boyfriend, sweetheart!” He at least took his hands off her and stepped back.

The red-headed stranger shot him a murderous glance and Claire thought they’d come to blows. “I don’t know WHO you are, but you don’t lay your hands on a lady who doesn’t want your attentions. Especially one who is MINE.” The stranger stepped between her and the slimeball.

“Hey! Hey! Chill, mate. I’m leaving.” Lowering his upraised hands, he gulped down the last of his drink and walked away into the crowd.

“Are ye alright, lass?” 

Claire was only a little shaken by the mess she walked into, but was more shaken by the ice blue eyes that were looking at her. They didn’t go straight to her cleavage like all the other men had done tonight. They were looking her straight in the eye with concern. Trust. She felt it instantly. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Claire thought in that moment that she was surely drunk because her brain felt about 12 steps behind the rest of her.

“Ye don’t look fine. Here. Sit down and take a drink. It will steady ye some.”

Claire took a drink of her whisky, giving herself a chance to take a steadying breath. 

“Better now?”

“Yes. Much. I’m so sorry to have troubled you.”

“It was nae trouble, lass. I ken his kind. Ye’d have been heading for trouble.”

“Well, I was ready to let him have it just as you came to my rescue.”

“I dinnae mean to stick my nose in where it didna belong. Only, I thought you could use a helping hand.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you did. I was scared you wouldn’t take my hint and play along with me, a complete stranger.”

“A stranger no longer,” he said holding his hand out to her. “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser at your service, my lady.”

Claire giggled (seriously…she *giggled* like a love-sick teen…how embarrassing!) and took his hand. “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. Pleased to make your acquaintance, James. And really…thank you for being my knight in shining armor, kind sir.” 

He let out a laugh and kissed her hand. “Ye can call your knight Jamie. Would you care to dance?”

“Yes, I would.” Still holding her by the hand, he led her to the dance floor. He put his hand on her hip and pulled her closer to him. Closer than normal for two strangers who had just met. His hand moved from her hip to her bare back. Claire closed her eyes, as her senses were assaulted. He smelled so good. She took a deep breath and let it flow through her. She felt him give her hand (he’d never released it from the hand shake) a slight squeeze and pulled her even closer. 

They swayed slowly to the music. She slowly opened her eyes and glanced up, only to see him looking at her with what she could only think of (thank you, Geillis, for corrupting my mind) as bedroom eyes. He blinked twice and the look was gone. 

Damn. She was kind of liking that look in his eyes. 

She grinned shyly at him and he smiled. 

The music came to a halt.

“Look at the time, everyone! Grab your partner and a glass of champagne! The countdown is about to begin!”

TEN!

He looked her in the eyes. Bedroom eyes fully functioning. Thank God!

NINE!

She blushed.

EIGHT!

“Do you have a partner here tonight?,” he asked. 

“God, no,” she blurted before she could put thought to words. Gads, but she WAS drunk.

“Then would you be my partner, my lady?”

She smiled. Oh yes. 

THREE!

He pulled her closer yet. No room for Jesus.

TWO!

He moved his head closer to hers.

ONE! 

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!

Her last coherent thought was “happy indeed” and he kissed her. Softly and gently at first. Lightning shot through her spine like she’d never experienced before. He released her lips and, nose-to-nose, said, “Happy New Year, my lady.”

Claire was nearly rendered speechless. She whispered, “Happy New Year, my knight.”

He claimed her lips again. This time, it wasn’t soft. He released her hand (the first time since their hand shake) and put it at the nape of her neck, drawing her in as close as he could get her. She felt his tongue swipe at her bottom lip and she tentatively opened. His tongue met hers and she felt the shot of electricity go down her spine again, but this time it branched out to her arms and shot clear to her toes. She drew in a deep breath through her nose, as did her knight.

They kissed all the way through “ _Auld Lang Syne_ ”. People were cheering and celebrating. Confetti was falling. But the knight and his lady didn’t notice.

Finally he pulled away and took a deep breath, and whispered in her ear, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, you undo me.”

She nuzzled his neck, smelling that scent again. Breathing it in, letting it sink like a drug into her veins. The whisky she’d imbibed in had gone straight to her head, it appeared. Yep. Definitely drunk.

“Claire, would you…(gasp…as Claire nipped as his ear lobe)…come home wi’ me?” 

She pulled back slightly and looked at those ice blue eyes again. 

“Yes.” Claire didn’t do one night stands, but for some reason, this just felt…right.

***********

Jamie led her off the floor to the coat check, where she retrieved her coat. Jamie held it open for her so she could slip her arms in. He turned her to face him, looking down at her for the first time in the light. He scanned her neck to toes and slowly back up. 

He spoke in awe, “Ye, my lady faire, are breathtaking.” 

Claire released any and all guilt related to the price tag of the dress. And said a quick prayer of thanks to Geillis for pushing her in the right direction, when Claire would have chosen a much more “frumpy feckin’ frock the likes of which my dear departed Gran wouldn’t even wear” (Geillis’ words, again). 

In the light of the coat check, she saw all the details of him that were blurred in the darkness of the bar. His hair wasn’t just red. It was auburn, gold, russet and all colors in between. His ice blue eyes were much more blue than she realized. And he was just as muscled as she thought, filling out his suit to perfection. 

Claire smiled at him coyly and said, “Thank you my knight in shining armor. Shall we be off on your white steed?”

“Weel, my steed Donas is at the farm and he’s nae white, but maybe my car will do for now?” He took Claire’s arm and walked her out the door. 

*******

They arrived at his flat a few minutes later. Jamie turned off the car and turned to her. “Claire, if you are having second thoughts about this, I can take you home. I don’t want you to feel pressured.” 

“No. I know my own mind and it’s telling me to get out of this car. Now. With you.”

He blinked and then slowly grinned. “I like a woman who knows her own mind.” With that, he leaned over to pull her into a kiss that soon turned frenzied. Their hands roamed all over each other freely. Suddenly, he breathlessly pulled away. “Claire, do ye feel it? This thing that is between us? It’s different, aye?” 

“Aye,” she whispered. “I feel it, too.”

“I want….I want very much to….oh God, Claire. I want ye more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life. Come inside?” With that, they got out of the car and, hand-in-hand, they ran upstairs to his flat. He unlocked his door with shaking hands (his keys….he couldn’t get his FUCKING KEY in the lock) and they fell inside, holding to each other. He slammed the door shut with a foot and pushed her up against the wall, claiming her lips again. He ran his hands through her hair, curls falling around her face and neck. Their hips ground against each other, hands roaming everywhere they could reach. Blood rushed to his extremities, setting everything to tingle. He ripped his mouth off hers.

“Claire, I want to see ye. Take off yer coat.”

He turned on the light in the foyer so he could see. When he looked up, she had that coy look in her whisky-colored eyes again. The look that drove him insane all evening. The look that made him know to the very marrow of his bones that she was The One. His Da once told him that he’d know when he found the right lass. And he was right. He. Knew. 

Claire slowly unbuttoned her coat and slipped the coat slowly off her arms. She leaned back against the wall and let him look his fill. That dress was everything it was meant to be. She arched her back, slid her toe forward and let her leg pop through the slit in her dress that went all the way to heaven. Her cleavage was framed in all its glory, with the bodice threatening to reveal more. Her leg was long and his eyes followed the slit all the way up her thigh where her secrets called to him. She knew what she was about and he liked it more than she’d ever know. “Turn around,” he ground out.

She stepped away from the wall and slowly turned away from him. She braced her hands on the wall and slowly rotated her arse back and forth. 

How did she know he was an arse man? She drove him right over the edge. He quickly stepped up behind her before she could move and reached around her waist. He couldn’t get his breathing under control. He growled in her ear, “What are you doing to me?” 

“Mmmmm…..do you like my new dress?”

“God, Claire! Yer wee dress….when I think of all the men that saw you tonight and drooled over ye as ye walked through the bar….I want to….” His hands slid up to rest just under her breasts. She arched her back, angling her arse right where he wanted it. He shut his eyes and nearly passed out when she ground against him. He gasped out, “Only wear this dress for me!”

“It’s yours,” she promised. “Only yours.”

She took him by the hand and led him down the hall. He would follow her siren’s call anywhere.

“Is this your room?”

“Yes.”

He wanted to keep playing her game. He turned the bedside lamp on low and turned on some soft music. Sitting down on a chair, he said, “Take off the dress. Slowly.”

She grinned slowly at him and turned her back to him, looking at him over her shoulder. She was good at this game. Given the low cut of the back, it was easy for Claire to reach around and slowly lower the zipper, revealing lacy red underwear that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his days. 

“Turn around.”

She looked at him, swiveled her hips in a slow dancing motion, hypnotizing him. He forgot how to breathe and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed as his pants got too tight for the likes of the swelling of massive proportions going on below. She held the dress up with her crossed arms, causing her breasts to swell up above the bodice, threatening to escape their confines (please, PLEASE…fall just a little lower). 

She knew he was squirming and she was enjoying it, damn her whiskey-colored eyes.

She pulled the dress down, bit by tiny bit. She gave him a coy look and slowly smiled. She turned her back to him again and put both hands up on his wall. His world tipped on its axis as she arched her back and she slowly swung her hips back and forth. Her dress inched to the floor and pooled at her feet.

“ _A Dhia cuidich mi_!” (She knew this one…Geillis regularly said “God help me!” when Claire tried to dress herself in anything besides hospital scrubs.)

Her arse was the roundest thing he’d ever seen. He nearly lost all control, but *just* managed to drag in a deep breath. Or twelve. “The Underwear” (as they’d be known for the rest of their long life together) framing her arse imprinted itself on his brain. The red scrap of lace was nearly the death of him. 

She reached up and released the last of the pins holding her hair up, shaking her riotous curls all around her shoulders. 

“ _Mo nighean donn_ ,” he whispered as she slowly turned to face him. (She didn’t know this phrase, but she would remember to ask him about it later.)

She walked toward him like a cat stalking its prey. “Now it’s your turn. Go over by the wall and take off your clothes. Slowly.”

He stood up and let his eyes roam up and down her nearly bared body. He walked around her slowly and shot her a look beneath hooded lashes that told her he was about to get revenge (a look that would haunt *her* best dreams for the rest of her entire life).

********

She sat down in the chair that he vacated. She started to toe off her shoes when he stopped her. “Leave them on.” 

So, that’s how he wanted to play this. Claire was primed and ready. And still had a few tricks left to throw at him.

His jacket landed on the floor at her feet, followed soon by his tie. He pulled his shirt slowly out of his trousers, moving his slim hips slowly left and then right. As he gradually unbuttoned each button at a snail’s pace, the rotation of his hips mesmerized Claire. She gulped as he slowly opened his shirt to reveal the hard muscles that she imagined while he kissed her earlier in the foyer. He turned his back to her as he slid the shirt down his arms. It landed on the floor with her dress. He leaned on the wall and ran his muscled arms out and up. With his arms on full display, to her delight, he ground his hips into the wall (he was afraid he was being ridiculous going Magic Mike on her, but her gasp and low moan told him otherwise…revenge was sweet).

As he turned back around to face her, Claire knew she needed to up her game. He ran his hands down his chest and reached for his belt. She watched him unblinking as he undid it and pulled it out of the loops. The metallic clang on the floor brought her back to her senses and she remembered what she intended to do. 

She raised one leg and propped it over the arm of the chair. She let the knee of her other leg fall open. With her eyes on Jamie, she watched as his hands faltered at the waistband of his trousers and his blue eyes glazed over. He leaned back against the wall (else his legs would give out right beneath him, his eyes glued between her legs). 

She had him. 

But not for long (he catches on quickly). His hand moved from his waistband down to the cock straining for release. He raised his left arm above his head and closed his eyes. He spread his legs slightly and swayed his hips back and forth as he rubbed his cock over his pants.

“Undo your pants and take them off. Now.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow, and looked at her, taking his arm down. He undid his trousers and slowly opened them. Not a true Scotsman, then (she must remember to ask him if he had a kilt and would he wear it for her sometime). He kicked off his shoes and bent to remove his socks (giving her a good view of his arse, which she meant to have her hands firmly planted on in about 3 minutes). He lowered his trousers and stepped out of them. 

She almost swallowed her tongue when he reached down, grabbed his cock and ran his fist along the long length of it. She couldn’t control her hips tilting down, grinding into the chair. 

“Take them off and come here.” God, was that seriously her voice?

And he did. He was nothing short of a Greek god, immortalized in hard marble. She stood up and he finally touched her, putting his hands on her hips. He crouched down in front of her and hooked his fingers into the straps of her lacy, red underwear. He lowered them to the floor. As she stepped out of them, he pushed her back into the chair.

“Put your leg back up over the chair arm.”

Oh God. Magic Mike Level 10.

“I’m going to ruin your chair.”

“Tell me why, Sassenach.”

Sassenach? She’d let that go for now. 

“I don’t want to ruin your chair because I’m…I’m…”

“Losing yer nerve now? Tell me. Why would ye be ruining my wee chair now?” He leaned forward to her ear, his voice going low and husky. “Tell me in great detail. And dinnae be leaving anything out.”

She could say it, now that she wasn’t looking at him. She whispered in his ear, “I’m so very, very wet. For you.”

He drew in a shaky breath (and swore to never, EVER get rid of said chair). “Show me, Claire.”

He leaned back and gently pushed her back to lean on the chair cushion. He lifted her other leg over the arm of the chair and lowered his head between her legs.

“Hmmmmm…..I see. What shall we do about that, Claire?” 

“Oh God, Jamie, pleeeeaaaase.”

“Please what, Claire?”

“Touch me.”

And he did. With his tongue. She let out a moan that nearly undid him right then and there. She moved her arse down to the end of the chair so he could have better access to her and she grabbed his hair. He did things with his tongue that she could never have imagined, but she wasn’t prepared for the onslaught that caused her to completely shatter as he sucked her clit into his mouth and slid 2 fingers into her. 

She came hard on his fingers and tongue. She regained her senses as he was kissing her thighs. She pulled him up to her mouth and kissed him.

“Fair is fair. Your turn now.”

“Claire, I don’t think…”

“I don’t want you to think. Sit. Down.”

“But Claire, I’m close. I don’t want…”

“Sit.”

“ _A Dhia_!” he nearly yelled as she went right to it. No teasing. No licking. No nipping. She slid as much of him as she could get into her mouth without choking. He grabbed handfuls of her hair and switched to what had to have been a very colorful rendition of a prayer of thanks in Gaelic. She lowered her mouth on him and he moaned, squirming in the chair. She pulled back all the way off, making a popping noise with her mouth. More Gaelic. She tongued off the liquid leaking from him and moaned as she did it. 

“Fuck! Do that again!”

She licked him again, then lowered her mouth onto him, humming as she went. He grabbed her hair and pulled her off, picked her up and walked to his bed where he tossed her and crawled up to her. Predatory. 

He took her legs and bent them back so that they lay over his shoulders and in one thrust, he was home. 

He held himself there, trembling, and said breathlessly, “Claire, I can’t go slow. I don’t wanna hurt ye, but I can’t go slow.” 

“Then don’t.”

He pulled out and rammed home, hitting her in just the right spot. In a frenzy of movement, they could no longer tell who was moaning, who was growling, where one ended and the other began. 

“Cl…Claire…oh God…please! I’m close. Let go. Come with me!”

One more thrust and their world exploded together. They couldn’t breath. They couldn’t move. All they could do was feel every pulse of blood. Every beat of their hearts in tandem. 

Later (much later), when they could speak again, Jamie asked her, “Did I hurt ye?” 

“No. It was…it was…Jamie, I have no words. ‘Amazing’ just isn’t enough.”

He kissed her and softly said, “ _Tha gaol agam ort, Sorcha_.”

“What does that mean?”

“I love you, Claire. Is that crazy? I just…I just needed ye to ken that.”

“I love you, too, Jamie. I don’t understand it, but I do.”

Jamie then told her about what his Da said about finding the love of his life. “I’ve found you, Claire. I don’t understand it either, but I’ve been looking for this…ye…all my life.”

She kissed him, squeezing him tight to her. She laughed and quipped, “I wonder if it was really me or the dress?”

“Oh, Sassenach,” he laughed and decided to tease her. “It was definitely the dress. Never get rid of that dress.”

And for the rest of their long, glorious life together, they kept the red dress as a remembrance of their first meeting. 

And the chair.

And the red underwear (but Claire didn’t know that).


End file.
